Not What I Expected
by Rona4Leroux
Summary: Things turn out not quite the way any member of our little trio expected or ever dreamed. Leroux-based with influences from the 1925 film. Rated T for language and situations.


**_Clear away expectations; they might lead to disappointment._**

_This idea has been rattling around in my head for some time. It is based on Gaston Leroux's book, with influences from the silent film (the one with Virginia Pearson as Carlotta, not the re-edited version with singer Mary Fabian added in as Carlotta)._

_Main characters: Erik/The Phantom/Angel of Music, Christine, Raoul_  
_Pairing: If I told you that, it would spoil the fun of telling the story!_

_This starts with the garden scene at 0:18:41 of the 1925 film and includes dialogue based on the intertitles._

* * *

Christine Daaé's favourite place to go and think was in a garden a few blocks from the Opera Garnier. It was there that Raoul, le Vicomte de Chagny, knew he would find her that afternoon. Sure enough, there she was, playing with a kitten. _'She is such an angel. I am a lucky man to be marrying her, if she'd only stop postponing things . . .'_

He crept up behind her and took her in his arms. When he tried to kiss her, she held back, even resisted him. She was acting as though it were improper for a man to kiss his fiancée.

Her master's words from the previous evening rang in her mind once more: _'Forget all worldly things and think only of your art - and your master!' _She pulled out of his embrace and informed him as gently as she could manage, "Raoul, you must forget me. My master has spoken; I must devote my life to my art." _'And to him.' _She couldn't bear to see the hurt confusion in his eyes; it caused her resolve to waver. She sat before her knees gave out from under her.

"Who is this mysterious master who makes you bow to his command?" Raoul asked firmly. Certainly, much was owed to this benefactor for providing her such tutelage and nurturing her talent, but to call off their engagement so abruptly at one word from him? This was too much!

Christine wondered how much she should admit to the man who'd been her patient fiancée for months and her friend for far longer. Surely, he would be able to understand as no one else could. "You remember how, when we were children, my father used to tell us of the Angel of Music?"

"Yes, of course. He was a great storyteller," he murmured. "What has that to do with this?"

"You know how I have prayed for the Gift of Music," she continued. "My father, in heaven, has interceded - has sent me the Angel of Music." She seemed to be caught up in a trance. "And, although I have never seen him, he has been my inspiration, and I _must_ obey him. You _do _understand now, don't you, why we cannot marry?"

Raoul laughed aloud before he could stop himself. "I am afraid, Christine, that somebody is playing jokes on you!"

It was as though a glass of ice water had been splashed on her face and she were seeing him for the first time. Was _this_ the same boy who'd been happy to sit beside her, enraptured by the same stories she'd heard at her father's knee? She rose and glared at his still chuckling form. _'He doesn't believe me! After I trusted him with this secret, he laughs! What kind of man is this, that he would ridicule me ?'_

He rested a hand on her shoulder to keep her from running off, but the anger was too fresh for her to entertain his attempts at apology. Without another word, Christine walked away from Raoul.

* * *

Philippe noticed his younger brother fidgeting before the curtain rose for Faust. "So, your sweetheart has left you for some phantom suitor, eh?" He would have insisted Raoul remain at home, but, as patrons of the opera house, they were both expected to make an appearance.

"No matter. I shall win her back." Raoul's eyes never left the stage. "Don't wait for me after the opera, Philippe. I shall go backstage to attempt to speak with Christine."

"As you wish, but do be careful, brother. She told you she wishes to devote herself to her art. If you push the issue, you run the risk of driving her away completely. And if this sponsor of hers really _is_ a rival for her affections -"

"Damn the fool! I love Christine, and she agreed to marry _me!_ Her word has to stand for something. Whoever this _master_ of hers is, he can't make our love disappear simply because he commands it. I refuse to believe that _she_ can shut off her emotions as easily as _he_ can speak!"

* * *

_"Come for me when you will. I will be waiting." _That was what his precious Christine had whispered to him through the door after everyone else had gone. Raoul chuckled to himself. All she'd needed was some time alone so she could calm her nerves over their impending wedding. _'Very well, my sweet. Soon, we shall leave Paris, marry, and go anywhere you would like._'

He was relieved he'd told his brother not to wait for him, for he would be very late heading home. He had to begin making plans, and in secret, if he and Christine were to be together with no objections from those who could hinder their journey.

* * *

Erik went through each room in his home far beneath the opera house and rearranged items until they were just so. Would Christine like her room? The linens were of a similar colour to those in her dressing room, though more luxurious. Only the best would do for her.

Did he have enough food? He didn't want to bring her to his home and suddenly discover that there weren't enough provisions! He hoped he had food that was to her liking. Yes, he'd espied her savouring exactly the fruits he'd purchased that morning, and he would venture aboveground to the boulangerie early in the morning.

Her bathroom was amply appointed with exquisitely scented toiletries and gilded vanity items. There was a fully stocked wardrobe and a cheval mirror in her bedroom, as well several pairs of shoes that were just her size. He's gone into her dressing room one afternoon while she was off rehearsing so he could borrow a few items to make sure the seamstress had all the measurements right. Everything she would need would be at her fingertips when she came home at last.

But how would she react to seeing her "angel" as an ordinary man?

No, not ordinary. Erik was far from ordinary or normal or anything worthy of her love. He was a monster, a demon straight from hell, and he knew it all too well.

* * *

Christine drew lazy circles in the water of her bath. What a week it had been! She'd performed as Marguerite in Faust, the audience had liked her, and her mysterious Angel of Music would soon be by her side.

The only part that dimmed her happiness was the thought of her broken engagement. She had loved Raoul, of course, but he had scarcely understood her devotion to music. Besides, he was nobleman with a grand lineage, and she was but a chorus-girl with no family. _'Did he _ever_ take me seriously? Or did he only see me as that little girl he decided he needed to take care of all those years ago?'_

She bit her lip nervously. She had so readily agreed to marry Raoul when she hadn't been entirely sure of her feelings for him. _'No, I really did love him . . . But music is my soul, and it would not be right to split my loyalties in such a way.'_

* * *

_**Fair warning: I am low on free time, so new chapters will be slow in coming.**_


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